


swallowing dust

by KnifingGale



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Afghanistan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bell-centric, Chunga Changa, Finding Nemo: COD edition, Gen, Helicopter Pilots, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pilots, Slow Burn, Soviet Union, Soviet-Afghan War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnifingGale/pseuds/KnifingGale
Summary: They had known each for years. They fought together, bled together, and been through hell and back.Bell knew that.Except she hadn't been with Adler in Vietnam."What happened in Afghanistan, Bell?"orIn which Bell served in the Soviet-Afghan War with Belikov as her closest friend and comrade. Some things change, others stay the same.
Relationships: Bell (Call of Duty) & Original Character(s), Dimitri Belikov & Bell (Call of Duty)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	swallowing dust

You remembered your _babushka_ once giving you a little flat box of canned sardines. When you had teared off the lid eagerly, you had looked down curiously at how the small, silvery fish were so tightly packed that all you could see of them were slivers of their scales glistening in the sunlight of the schoolyard.

As you listened to the buzzsaw sound of the A-22’s turboprop engines going round and round, you couldn’t help but think that you and your comrades were like that.

Merely tightly packed sardines in a can just waiting to be ripped open.

Your feet always bumped against the ever shifting large cargo containers restrained by netting and loosened straps in front of you. And your knees were already bumping against Gusev, your neighboring passenger and Afghantsy returning from his home in Kazan.

“ _дерьмо́_ ,” Gusev swore with a sigh, “The dushman are at it again.”

You glanced curiously at the grizzled Afghantsy before finally asking out loud over the buzzsaw sound of the turboprop engines, “This is normal?”

“Ah,” he glanced over at you with a look of realization, "You looked so calm for a molodoy that I thought you already knew!” Before you could ask him to elaborate on that, the floor beneath you shuddered.

You heard several explosions to your right, each one shaking the aircraft tremulously.

 _Sardines in a can_ , you thought distantly.

The A-22 must have banked sharply to the right as you felt your very world tilt. You could barely hear the distinct hiss and pop of flares going off in the background followed quickly by sounds you could only attribute to hails of gunfire.

There was something surreal about it all. The yelp a young conscript made when a cargo container slammed against his foot, the swearing of soldiers around you, and the explosions.

Humming to yourself a jolly tune you heard from a East Berlin pilot during training, you closed your eyes as you recalled the words of the song your comrade had taken such amusement in singing.

“ _The bear went over the mountain_ ,” you sang to the tune ringing in your head, repeating the words twice over to that very tune. The aircraft shuddered and shook once more.

“Evasive maneuvers,” you heard Gusev mutter under his breath next to you along with an inaudible swear. Much to your surprise, after swearing for a few moments, he too joined in with a low hum to your words.

“ _To see what he could see. To see what he could see-”_

You noted how the airplane must have started descending as you could feel it doing so keenly. The only question was _where_ it was going to land.

Your silent question was soon answered by the sound of screeching tires burning hot on the tarmac of the airfield. Even though you didn’t know which base or airfield you were at in the country, you knew one thing.

You really needed to get to the mess hall.

 _I could miss dinner_ , you thought worriedly as you continued to hum the tune.

“ _The bear went over the mountain_ ,” you sang distractedly, “ _To see what he could see_ -”

Your words were punctuated by the aircraft coming to a sudden, shocking stop with the cargo, both physical and human, jolting against each other. The mechanized ramp doors suddenly groaned and opened up steadily, flooding the dark interior cabin with the harsh midday sunlight.

You squinted against the brilliant light and moved to grab your bag packed underneath your netted seat only to feel a hand pressing down on your shoulder.

“Wait, chizhik.” Gusev shook his head. You looked down at the afghantsy and opted to sit back down obediently. He was what other soldiers called a dedushka, a second-year veteran here.

You knew better than to not listen to the grizzled war vets. Your experience in the Academy had taught you that much.

“Good,” he nodded at you as he patted your shoulder, “You listen. They don’t.” he gestured over to the soldiers.

Apparently, the floodgates of all the plane’s “sardines” were open and they were flooding out in a hurried, nervous stream. _And understandably so_ , you thought as you detected the all too familiar scent of smoke.

Once Gusev calmly stood up from his seat next to you, you hauled your bag up from beneath your netted seat and stood with the straps secured around your shoulder. You followed him down the ramp along with the few stragglers left behind by the stream of “sardines” off the plane.

“ _The other side of the mountain_ ,” you sang, more quietly this with the turboprop engines of the plane having long since died down. Your eyes were now adjusted to the sunlight as you blinked once and finally noticed.

“- _was all that he could see._ ” you finished, staring down at the burning wreckage before you. Gusev stopped ahead of his, looking back at you with a grim expression.

“One of those Mandatory Matsurovs,” the Afghantsy shook his head, “Must have taken a hit for us. Guarding an Antei is like trying to protect a pregnant woman in a warzone.”

There was already a team of firemen putting out the fires of the burning wreckage as the supervising air marshall looked on while shaking his head. Despite its burnt wrecked state, you could easily tell that was a Mi-24 Hind D gunship helicopter armored to the teeth.

You shook your head in disbelief. What could have happened-

You must have voiced your thoughts out loud as you heard Gusev answer with a sigh, “The dushman hide out in the mountains surrounding this area. When an Antei or Illyin takes off or approaches the airport, they fire RPGs at it. These Mandatory Matsurovs are here to protect them at all costs, even if it means taking a missile hit themselves.”

You looked back at the burning wreckage of the Mi-24. There was little doubt that the crew hadn’t managed to escape the explosive fireball that encompassed the gunship.

“The lives of the many over the few,” you said quietly to yourself. A part of you couldn’t help but wonder what the crew of the downed Mi-24 thought in those final moments...in that decision to take the sacrificial hit.

You heard Gusev chuckle beside you as he lit a cigarette and took a drag from it with smoke curling into the air.

“You...you get it.” he pointed at you with a smile as he casually gestured to you with his gloved hand, smoke from the cigarette following his every motion, “I can already guess how you got here, comrade.”

“You do?”

“Of course, a zampolit must have despised you,” Gusev glanced down at you with a rather amused grin, “Or they must have really liked you.”

You laughed amusedly. There were times when you wondered if those who had sent you here despised you. But it didn’t really matter.

“Are you waiting for someone, Comrade Gusev?” you asked curiously, noticing the man seemed to be looking for someone amongst the scattered crowd near you. Soldiers were still waiting to be guided to their units and waiting stations.

“Yes,” he sighed, once more taking a drag of his cigarette irritably, “I’m looking for a Praporshchik Pavlov. The boy must be lost in the crowd. Don’t you need to join your fellow nurses, chizhik?”

“Comrade Gusev,” you said amusedly as you barely let slip the smile on your face, “I’m afraid I haven’t introduced myself properly. I am Praporshchik Pavlov, assigned to the 7th Attack Helicopter Regiment. I await further assignment details upon joining with the regiment.”

Really you didn't blame the man for mistaking you to be a nurse. Your dark green M69 uniform and no visible identifiers to distinguish you from a field nurse made it easy to mistake.

It wasn’t as if your case was even common….

“Pavlov…?” Gusev questioned outloud. The man’s reaction was almost comical. In his shock, the cigarette he held nearly fell off his lips, “But you’re…”

“I...volunteered to be part of a pilot program reintroducing women into combat roles,” you explained patiently. There were some parts to it all you really couldn’t explain without risks of prying ears, “Apparently, I was a prime candidate for air cavalry.”

The man agitatedly ran a hand through his brown hair as he looked down at you with a sigh, “This... _дерьмо́_ damn those jackals...I will let Captain Belikov decide this matter.”

With that, he threw his cigarette down onto the tarmac with a kick of his boot snuffing out the dying embers of the ashes. Still at a loss of what exactly to do, you followed him across the tarmac of the airfield, even as you knew you were exposed and vulnerable to enemy fire on the tarmac to an extent.

Eventually, you reached a relatively vacant corner of the airfield lying a good distance away from the tallest mountains to the north. There were several hangars nearby and a lone black car of the fancy sorta, perhaps a sedan, parked nearby.

And there stood a man in a white coat.

He was a short man in stature with wire-framed glasses with eyes looking up heavenwards. And you realized he was trembling.

 _The crash must have scared him_ , you thought immediately. You could even see tears welling in his widened eyes behind those wire-framed glasses.

“Dr. Markow,” Gusev greeted with a nod as he approached the man with nothing more than an idle glance and no concern at all for the tears the man shed. You stepped forward, thinking about offering an awkward greeting and offering to escort him off the airfield. Yet his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“I thought I knew what my helicopters could do, now I'm not so sure!” Dr. Markow cried out with his eyes cast heavenwards. _He must be one of the engineers of the Mi-24_ , you thought in amazement.

It was only that you yourself finally looked up as well-

...only to see seven Mi-24 gunships doing barrel rolls and tail slides in the air

You heard the distinct sound of blades clipping through the air closer and closer. With a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw the green camouflage Krokodil-esque paint of an Mi-24 flying through the air despite only being a mere 10 feet off the ground.

As you watched it come closer and closer, you realized the gunship wasn’t slowing down nor was it deviating from its current course.

It was coming towards _you_.

Holding onto the brim of your Panamanka hat, you felt the stray strands of your hair slap against your face with the winds generated by the blades of the Mi-24. You couldn’t help but smile in exhilaration as you heard the familiar sounds of blades clipping the air and wind hitting your face as the Mi-24 flew over you by mere feet.

At last, something _familiar_.

“Belikov...you _мудак_!” Gusev barked out a laugh. You couldn’t tell if this “Belikov” in the Mi-24 acknowledged him. Although, the Krokodil gunship proceeded to do a perfectly executed barrel roll after sharply climbing in the air.

You could barely dampen the smile into your face into an expression far more collected. This...this was better than you had imagined.

“Still going to stick with these hooligans, chizhik?” Gusev asked with a chuckle. It was only then you realized that this was the 7th Attack Helicopter Regiment.

“My orders are final,” you said amusedly with a shake of your head. Really, you wouldn’t choose another regiment over _this_ even if you were offered the choice.

“Your funeral, comrade.” Gusev said with a smile, “I must introduce you to your squadron. Your squadron assignment just came in.”

“Lead the way, Comrade Gusev.” you said with a smile, barely hiding the anticipation and excitement in you. These were going to be the men you would serve with over the next year.

Although, you wondered why the look Gusev gave you was as if he was leading you to your own funeral.

**Author's Note:**

> So...I ended up writing this out! I intended to post this yesterday but I was tired and I wanted to proofread it with a clear head before I posted it. Anyways, to clarify some things such as chronological discrepancies, this is an AU in which the events of COD Cold War are delayed by 6-7 years. This allows for Bell and Belikov to have served in the Soviet-Afghan War prior to the events of the campaign. In addition, this is separate from the rest of the franchise's events because then things wouldn't really make sense...
> 
> On a side note, the crying engineer is loosely based on a true story of Marat Tischenko, head of the Mil design bureau, who visited Afghanistan in 1980 to see what the troops thought of his helicopters. He was astounded to see airshows the MI-24 pilots performed where they had the Mi-24s do barrel rolls and other maneuvers previously thought physically impossible by Marat and his engineers. He actually said, "I thought I knew what my helicopters could do, now I'm not so sure!" (I got the dialogue of the crying engineer from him). 
> 
> Also, kudos to anyone who notices the Top Gun reference in this chapter XD. And apologies to any Russian-speakers who read this chapter. I tried not to solely rely on Google Translate and do some looking in other sites and discussion boards online. Also, Belikov didn't appear much in this chapter but he will be appearing a lot more in the next one. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed reading it.


End file.
